


The Proposal

by powercorruptionlies



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, yes yes it's a rip off of the proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-13 13:36:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17489015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/powercorruptionlies/pseuds/powercorruptionlies
Summary: Roger's violated his visa. Brian can do him this little favour, surely?





	1. Chapter 1

"Roger, my office now, please." Paul marched into the studio just as Roger had taken his seat at his drums, ready to record. This elicited a chorus of groans, even from Deacy. These were to be the final drum tracks to record for the new album, and then they'd be done on _Sheer Heart Attack_. Or they would've been, if Paul hadn't decided to interfere as he always seemed to find a way to do.

Roger complied, putting on his best 'I-don't-want-to-throw-Paul-out-of-a-bloody-window' face and trailing along behind the bigger man, leaving his drumsticks on the snare ready for Freddie to pick up and take on the role of the obnoxious drummer that never stops tapping out a rhythm. 

"Yeah that's it, Fred. Just like Blind Melon Taylor does it," Brian chided, not quite out of Roger's earshot.

_I'll throw him out the bloody window next._

Paul was already seated in his too-wide swivel chair, body spread in a power stance. Roger got the compelling urge to smack Prenter in the jaw, being so tired from the months of recording, but decided not to toy with the cruelly self-satisfied spark in Paul's eye. 

Eventually Paul waved his hand at a chair the other side of the desk, signalling for Roger to take a seat. Roger sat down gingerly as he had many times before when Paul had called him and Freddie in there to discuss their 'expenses' while on tour, and tell them to knock it on the head before they 'bankrupted the whole fucking company'.

Moments passed with still nothing of an explanation out of Prenter, just the same smug look which set Roger on edge. The silence was occasionally cut through by a raging argument between Brian and Fred. Roger couldn't take it anymore.

"What've I done now? We've not been touring so I haven't even had a chance to use your fucking money. Can you just tell me what I've done so we can finish this god forsaken album?" Roger bit his lip in frustration, rolling it between his top and bottom teeth. 

_He makes me wish I'd just become a dentist._

"Exactly, Roger, you haven't done  _anything_. That's our problem today,"

"Christ, I can't do anything right, can I? Want me to put myself in a box? Attach strings to myself so you can marionette me like you do with Freddie?"

Paul slammed the table at the mention of Freddie. Roger shot back in his chair, wishing he'd never brought  _that_ old story up. 

"I do not  _marionette_ him," Paul spat, changing objectives completely. "Anyway, Taylor. My problem is that I got a lovely little letter from the home office today." 

Roger's heart dropped. He was still on a visa. He'd also recently violated said visa's guidelines.

"I take it by the look on your pretty, pretty, face that you know what I'm about to say. So, Taylor - time for you to pack up and leave the country." 

Roger let it all sink in.  _Fuck, fuck, fuck me._

"How... how long have I got?"

"Seventy-two hours. Unless, of course, you get married in that time," Paul wheezed with laughter at his own joke, Roger heftily rolling his eyes. 

"Maybe I will."

"It's got to be genuine, Roger. And now you've divulged that you might exploit that loop hole, and I know for a fact that you've not got anyone you plan on marrying, I can easily just make you call the whole thing off - and get you into a lot more trouble for it too." 

***

As soon as Prenter let him go he flew back into the studio, clearing up as much of his belongings as he could. 

"What's the Irish witch said now, darling?" Freddie asked from the couch, the only one who seemed relatively awake.

"Violated my visa. Getting deported."

That woke everyone up. 

The three boys' questions overlapped and jumbled up in Roger's head, worsening his pounding headache. 

"Just shut up! Shut the fuck up! You think I have any idea what I'm going to do?" 

"Could marry me," Fred offered. Teasing of course, angering Roger more. Freddie threw his hands up at the large pair of eyes glaring up at him, retreating back to the brown leather couch with Mary. "More for Mary, then. Mary, darling, our wedding's back on!"

The plastic crate which Roger was now unceremoniously throwing his tapes into tipped over from its unsteady perch on the arm of the wooden chair. The crash silenced everyone again, and Roger was thankful for the peace until he realised he had another mess to clean up. Slumping onto the drumming stool with his head in his hands, he groaned internally. John took pity on him, playing the bass to Stone Cold Crazy to try and drown Roger's crying out. 

Brian, who hadn't said anything so far for his state of disbelief, came up next to Roger and crouched down next to the stool, finding it hard to fit both of them in the small space behind the drums. 

"I'll marry you." He offered quietly, right up against Roger's ear so he could be heard over the low pulse of the bass. Roger was prepared to glare at Brian between his fingers, but something in the way Brian looked at him stopped him. He looked more upset than anyone in the room, and wasn't throwing out the marriage idea as a mood lifter like Freddie was. 

"Bri... thank you... but Paul said he'd know it was a forced marriage,"

"So what? We have three days. We can go to my family's house in Cornwall. We'll get married there, my family's so on my arse about getting hitched since the whole thing with Chrissie, they'd jump at the chance to at least make it a special day."

"It doesn't need to be special, Brian, it just needs to work..."

"...and it will. Rog, trust me, we can get divorced straight after. No strings attached." Brian smiled at the small smirk edging its way across his friend's lips. Roger wanted to accept this, but, on top of the push factor of Paul's threat, he wasn't totally all for pretending to be in love with Brian for three days. He could barely pretend to love the groupies he hooked up with that begged him to love them back, let alone a guy.

Roger finally nodded in acceptance, reasoning it'd be easier to feign being gay for less than a week than having to start all over again in a different country, earning a small cheer from Brian.

"Deacy, Mary, Fred, we have something very special to share with you..."

"Oh shut up, May. I'm gonna fake being Bri's boyfriend, we'll get married, I don't get deported, and a big 'fuck you' to Mr. Prenter. You can come to our fake wedding in Colchester." 

"Cornwall, you melon. Cornwall." 

***

Brian eagerly rung up his grandmother for the first time since he'd had to tell her that he was dropping out of his astrophysics course for the band. Plus, that she absolutely had to see him on Top of the Pops. 

"Grandma?"

"Brian? How are you, love?"

"Fantastic, actually, yeah. Is everyone with you?"

There was a buzz on the line as, he assumed, his grandmother looked around the room.

"Yes, why? Is everything alright Brian? Do you need money?"

He clenched his jaw at the sound of his cousin's laughter from the other end of the line, gently shaking his head. 

"Nothing like that. Tell Harry that I don't need - oh whatever. The news is I'm getting married, gran." 

Again, a dead buzz. He squeezed his eyes shut, holding the receiver slightly away from his ear in anticipation for the loud screaming that would inevitably grace his ears. 

And it did. He only wished he could share the excitement, that it wasn't all a big lie that he'd have to let fizzle out before divorcing his best friend. He wished it could last their whole lifetime. Roger didn't want that, though, he was assured of Roger's heterosexuality almost as much as Freddie dismissed his own. 

"Who's the lucky lady, future Mrs. May?" his mother's voice, a dilute Scottish accent, was coming down the phone now. Wonderful, of course a  _lady_ was in question.

"Bloke, actually, um, lucky bloke. It's Roger. The drummer. My drummer." 

"Oh, oh, Brian, that's..."  _a disgrace_ , "Wonderful! Good for you. How long have you been -"

_I do not have time to come out to my family right now._

"Listen, mum, can you have the house rigged for a wedding? We really need it done in the next two days really, because then we're on tour..." Brian trailed off, rather proud of the lie.

"Absolutely!" his mother and grandmother this time. Already drawing up plans, he could feel it. He also heard the oh-so quiet interaction of his mother - knowingly - asking his father if he wanted to speak to Brian and congratulate him, and his father declining. He pressed his head into the cold tiles of his kitchen and breathed out coolly. He'd guessed so much from his father. He looked over his shoulder into his living room, meeting Roger's eyes as he did so. He'd been listening to the whole conversation, looking a little confused. Brian waved him off, motioning for him to keep packing. 

"And make room for Fred and John, and their girls, we can't leave them out."

"Naturally, Bri. We're better hosts than you give us credit for! They'll have the granny flat, is that alright?"

"It'll do. Thanks, mum, gran. I'll see you tomorrow?" 

The whole family crowded around the phone to wish Brian and Roger the best, some still sounding confused and unsure. Brian hung up the phone after he'd heard enough noncommittal sentiments. 

Roger was zipping up the suitcase as Brian walked over, sitting heavily down on his couch. Roger sensed something was the matter, getting on the cushion next to his dejected friend. 

"Want me to pretend to be a loving husband now? What's wrong love?" Roger smiled cheekily, brushing a few dark brown curls out of Brian's downturned eyes. Brian didn't meet his friend's eyes, despite Roger craning right over his lap, almost forcing their eyes to meet. "Sorry, I'll stop. But honestly, what's going on? Can we not go?"

_I'm in love with your attractive, intelligent, talented, blond ass and I have to live out my wildest fantasy as a lie, inevitably disappointing my family when and if they find out I lied to them. On top of that, my family's a homophobic disaster, and my father is that little bit more disappointed in me. Harry is now officially the family favourite May child._

"It's nothing, just pissed at Paul, feel bad for you. Don't really want to drive." Brian lied easily, smirking along, which was a little more difficult to manage. 

"I appreciate your pity, darling," Roger was cracking himself up with the pretend-dating thing, only further cementing into Brian's mind what could, but never will, be. 

"Anything for you." Roger looked a bit taken aback at the seriousness of Bri, who just looked more downhearted than a few moments ago, despite the sweet sentiment. Brian's heart ached when Roger leaned down, acting as if he was giving his fiancé a kiss goodnight but pulled away before making contact with Brian. He laughed as he walked to Brian's bedroom - Brian, the gentleman, was taking the couch. 

Brian lay for a while in the dark apartment, realising he'd have to sleep like this for the next few nights. Roger in a queen-size, plenty of room for Brian to slide in under the covers and feel his friend's warmth. Right out of arms reach would be Brian, sleeping on the floor of the guest bedroom of his family's home. He took his hand out of his hair that had been absentmindedly rubbing calming circles into his own scalp, pretending it was Roger's own bony fingers, and let his eyes close, the tiredness behind his eyes sealing his eyelids shut.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had some really lovely feedback so far, and thank you all for your kudos/bookmarks/comments/reading it!!  
> ALSO this was so hard to write skskks idk why I struggled so much :/// hope y'all keep liking this though! you're all motivating me :)

Roger sat in the passenger seat of Brian's car, trying to make peace with the fact that it was a five hour car journey in the same enclosed space as the three people he argued fervently with almost daily. Brian was constantly shifting in the driver's seat, a pained look on his face as he continually arched and stretched his back.

_Ah, shit, I'm horrible. Shouldn't have let the eight foot man take the couch._

"Brian, darling, can you stop? You're moving your chair back and it's shoving my knees," Freddie made one of many complaints he would make over the next few hours with a sharp jab into the back of the chair. Mary and Ronnie were still asleep, and John looked miles away as he stared out the window, occasionally fogging it up to write  _'help'_ on it. 

"Christ, Deacy, don't get us pulled over."

***

For the most part everyone was silent, which never happened. Roger and Brian noticed each other stealing glances at the other throughout the ride, neither of them put out by being caught. Roger thought Brian must've been sizing up the mistake he'd made by asking Roger to marry him - Brian probably thought he was ruining his reputation by all of a sudden coming out as gay to his family and marrying someone like Rog. His mind continued berating himself until the slow crunch of gravel hit his ears above the low chatter from the back seats. 

"We're here, guys. Go and knock, I'll be right up with you,"

"It's your family, Bri, we're not going without you. That's awkward," Mary argued, a hum of agreement from the other three in the back with her. Brian was soon exasperated, he'd looked like he wanted to turn the car around the whole drive down, they'd all noticed it. The four did him the favour of leaving him alone, with Roger.

"And me? I think it's more convincing if we rock up together. I wouldn't want to leave my lovely fiancé alone..." Roger fought to keep the mood up. What was up with Brian?

_He can't regret this that much, can he?_

"If you wouldn't mind... I just need to prepare myself for my family. Maybe you guys will soften the blow." 

Roger complied, feeling a little lied to, and set out down the long drive, taking charge and zealously hitting the knocker three times. There was a loud kerfuffle, many footsteps running closer to the wooden door and soon enough they were faced with seven members of the May family. Two people they all recognised as his parents, a small older woman, three boys all around their age and another woman who looked about old enough to be their mum. 

"Welcome! Come right in," the absence of their family member eventually hit them, causing them to tut at the sight of Brian wallowing in the car still. 

"What is that boy of ours doing now, Ruth? Someone go get him! This is his weekend, after all," the old woman threw her hands in the air. "And of course, yours too, Roger." 

Roger forced a smile, upturning his dry lips. His hands were clammy. He couldn't for the life of him figure out why he was so nervous all of a sudden. 

***

Once fully situated inside the generously sized guest room which faced the garden - essentially a field - the two boys could breathe. 

"I think it's time for our first couple's-fight," Roger huffily folded his arms across himself, standing above Brian for once in his life. 

"I was thinking the same thing," Brian took leverage in being able to spread his tired body across the bed, something he wouldn't get for a while now. 

"I'll go first. Can you lighten up a little? No-one's gonna take kindly to you being a sour grape on your  _wedding_ _weekend_ , if you're so worried about your family's attitude towards you,"

Brian didn't reply, exasperating Roger more. 

_Be like that then._

The smaller of the two buzzed around the room, angrily putting clothes away, slamming as many drawers and doors as he could in the process. 

"See, I'm even unpacking for you. Cheer up a little about that, would you?"

"My family hates that I'm gay."

Roger stalled in the middle of hatefully folding a pair of socks that had gotten separated. He could feel the tension release in his previously clenched jaw as his face softened into confusion. Instinct told him to get on the bed with Brian, push all of his hair out of his face and - 

_What am I thinking? Slow down, Rog, stop convincing yourself this is real. I don't even like Brian that way. Bastard's lucky if I like him at all sometimes._

Instead, Rog just scoffed. 

"Well, you're not actually gay, are you? So when this all blows over, you can tell them you're straight and be done with it." Brian pulled himself up, tilting his head to the side in a way that made Roger feel stupid. Bri was always good at inducing that feeling. Very quickly, however, Brian seemed to force himself into a look of agreement, almost as if he'd changed his mind about something. Roger reckoned Bri was just tired from driving, that's all, and got a bit confused. That  _had_ to be it. 

"Yeah, you're right, Rog. I guess it's just hard to have them tiptoeing around me when there's really no need." 

"Glad you got your head screwed on right. Anyway, what bone do you have to pick with me? I've been a treat so far," 

"It was nothing. Just try not to overdo the couple stuff, yeah? There's such thing as over-acting, and we all know that you're a ham."

***

Everything in the house was very geometrical. Roger noted the sharp, hexagonal patterns on the ceiling above him, the ridges just visible in the soft light from the moon. He lay in the middle of the queen-size, which just felt cold and empty without someone to share it with like he usually had. New body every night, naturally. Brian had fallen asleep before Roger had a chance to offer the bed to him, a more practical option given his friend's height. He threw his head sideways, desperate to see if he'd managed to will more sleepless hours away.

00:48.

Only five minutes had passed since his last check. 

Roger sat up in bed helplessly, arms lazily resting on the bedsheets pooled around his stomach. He debated waking Brian up, just to have something to do, or venturing outside to the granny flat to see Freddie and Deacy. Their lights were still on, and he was envious of the fun they must be having. But, of course, he had to pretend like he was sleeping with the 'love of his life' - it was harder than he'd imagined to keep up the façade that he and Brian were more than mates who took the piss out of each other at any opportunity, and rather cruelly more times than not. He'd severely shocked the family at dinner when he poured half the salt shaker into Brian's glass of water. It would usually be the whole salt shaker, but the widened eyes of Ruth and her mother brought Roger back to his disjointed reality. Really, it should've been the ever-observant John kicking him in the shins that told him he was doing something he shouldn't be. 

Brian continued to shift around, able to mumble in discomfort even in sleep. Roger was about to wake him up and force them to switch places, yet something stopped him as he was half hanging off the end of the bed. Surprisingly, he'd never seen Brian asleep in the six years he'd known him. Usually he'd take advantage of the vulnerability and be a right dick about the upper hand he had; however, right now everything was holding him back, telling him to notice how lovely Brian looked while asleep. He mentally scolded the thoughts of Brian he was having, blaming it on the time of night, prodding the boy awake to distract himself.

"What the bloody hell do you want?" 

"Come into the bed,"

"With you?" Brian spluttered. 

"No, dumbass. I'm still off limits. I meant for us to switch."

"Well if the couch isn't good enough for me it's not good enough for you," Roger crinkled his nose at the out of character argument Bri was putting up. Normally he'd jump at the opportunity to debase Roger if it meant he'd be more comfortable. 

"Just fucking switch with me, I can't cope with hearing you groaning all night, and I'm certainly not dealing with Brian 'I-have-scoliosis' May tomorrow morning," Brian didn't shift. Roger was  _not_ sharing a bed with Brian, he was too worried about what his body would decide to do in the night. He would die if he got morning wood and Brian thought it was something to do with him. 

They held each other's gaze for a while longer, half challenging, half... Roger didn't know what else he saw in Brian's eyes. Roger didn't know what he was trying to convey in his own.  Eventually he swung himself out of the bed, attempting to lift Brian under the arms and haul him into the bed. 

"Fuck off! Before you make me scream," Brian hissed, shoving Roger onto the rock-hard couch and falling dead asleep as soon as he hit the fluffy bed.

***

Rapid knocking shocked them both awake, eyes ripping open to glaring sunlight poking through where they'd forgotten to shut the curtain properly.

"Brian? Roger? We've made breakfast for you!" 

They immediately whipped their heads round to face each other, panic etched across both of their expressions. 

 _"What do we do?"_ Roger mouthed, sliding off the couch as Brian called to his mother that they'd be just a moment. 

 _"Get in here with me,"_ Brian mouthed pack, jabbing aggressively at the spot next to him in the bed. Roger's shoulders sunk down, frowning at Brian. He gave Roger and apologetic look as he tried to tame his flurry of curls. Roger crawled over Brian's narrow lap, slipping under the covers. 

"Well don't just sit rigidly! Have you ever done after care?"

"Oh, oh so this is after care? That's the scenario I'm supposed to be imaging?"

"You don't have to imagine fuck-all, just act like you enjoy my company," Brian hissed, lifting an arm for Roger to nestle himself into as he gave his mother the 'okay' to come in. 

Roger found himself almost glad to be in the warmth of Brian's side, slipping his arm around the boy's waist as a final touch before his mother pushed the door gently with her shoulder, tray of tea and a fry up in hand. She smiled sweetly, stopping halfway across the room to sigh and take in the sight before her. Brian's chest rose and fell quickly in his mother's presence, Roger half-in and half-out of character rubbing Brian's shoulder with his thumb to try and relax him. 

 

Silence fell in the room, no one quite sure what to say. Everyone was uncomfortable for vastly different reasons. 

"Give us a kiss, Brian," Roger demanded out of the blue, a request which would've knocked Brian clean off his feet if he was standing up. 

"I, uh, I..." 

Roger muttered for Brian to shut up, grabbing his chin between the thumb and forefinger of his free hand and pressing two soft, deep kisses to Brian's uncertain mouth. Brian eventually figured out how to kiss back, prolonging the moment for three more equally sensual kisses. 

"Aren't you two the most lovely couple! I wish everyone could've seen you like this yesterday,"

"No need, mum, they'll see all of it at the altar." Brian pulled harshly away from Roger, leaving the blond with his eyes closed and mouth puckering at nothing, leaning forward too far in an attempt to find Brian's lips again and instead planting a kiss where his ear met his jaw, earning a mouthful of hair. 

Ruth took the dismissal, placing the tray across their legs and blowing a kiss goodbye as she walked out of the room. 

Roger untangled himself from Brian as soon as footsteps were no longer audible, tucking into eggs and fried mushrooms as if nothing had just happened. He had to stop eating once he caught onto the fact that Brian was staring at him, looking out of the corner of his eye at Brian's shocked face. 

"What? I was uncomfortable. People kiss, Bri,"

"I'm very fucking aware that people kiss, Roger, but why'd you have to do that?"

"We're getting married, remember? Boyfriend of two years, was that what we fibbed out last night?" 

Brian shot out of the covers, marching to the bathroom and slamming the door. 

"You just spilt my shitting tea!" Roger shouted at the closed door, only getting a bang on the door in response.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning I guess? I use a really outdated derogatory word for gay in the beginning of this :// idk why I'm writing Bri's dad so nastily but that's how the dad was in the film so here we gO.

Yet again, Brian's absence was not missed by his family members. It was a struggle to fit all thirteen of them around the dining room table, as well as the five outsiders, for the meals they insisted on sharing. 

Roger forewent the food, having eaten one and a half fry-ups already this morning, sipping cheap coffee and trying to lie his way through probing relationship questions. Freddie was entertaining most of the table with embarrassing stories of Brian, Mary desperately trying to quieten him down when he got to the ones that were a product of Brian being disgustingly drunk. 

Harold May sat at the head of the table, ignoring everyone. Roger felt the urge to try and talk to him, make him laugh, as he could tell they weren't favoured by his 'fiancé's' father. Roger tried to croak out the start of a joke, clamping his mouth shut as soon as he received an icy glare from the older man.

"I'm trying to eat," 

"Oh, Harold, he can see that. Be a bit nicer to our son's friends," 

" _Friends,_ " Harold repeated, almost mockingly, looking directly at Roger. Roger realised Harold had been mostly absent yesterday, and finally understood how Brian must be feeling. The looks and tone of his father were enough to create a pit in the stomach, wishing you could do something that would make him happy with you. 

Everyone besides Brian's three cousins went silent with the tension at the head of the table, oblivious to social cues as Brian had warned them all. Their mother tapped their end of the table, bringing them back to the mood of the room. Forks clinked down on plates, slurps of the final dregs of tea were taken, and most of the guests excused themselves to the rest of their day. 

Roger stayed with the parents and grandmother out of politeness, also half-hoping it would be a reasonable sight for Brian to come down to, if he so decided. No-one was talking to him still, giving him ample time to feel guilty as hell about forcing Brian to kiss him. What was he thinking? Brian was probably washing his mouth out right now, they'd never be able to look at each other again. 

"So, Rog, how'd you feel about going out with me and my mum today?" Ruth met Roger's eyes, nearly pleading for normalcy. 

"Yeah, I'd really like that. What about Brian and Mr. May, would they be-"

"Nonsense! It's just for us to get to know who our son is so smitten with, since we've not met you for the six years our Brian's known you." Ruth deflected the question, Roger felt, to protect Harold and Brian from having to spend time with him. 

"Brian is quite private," Roger tried to laugh, unsure if Ruth was angry or upset that Brian hadn't told them about Roger.

"Yes, we know, we've known him for twenty seven years," 

Roger swallowed the lump in his throat guiltily at Harold's words, gratefully excusing himself to get ready at the prompt of Brian's grandmother. 

As he made his way up the wooden staircase, he heard the hushed argument between the three he'd left in the dining room. 

_"Could you please leave the two of them alone, it's probably attitudes like yours that kept Brian from telling us for so long,"_

_"Maybe it was your constant moithering of the sodomite,"_

_"How dare you talk about your son that way! That is beyond disgusting, Harold, really,"_

Anger made Roger's hands shake. His whole body clenched at the utterance of the word  _sodomite_. His fingers curled and uncurled themselves as he stayed in a fixed position halfway up the staircase, wanting so badly to throw hands with Harold. It would cause too much of a stir, and Brian would definitely find out how his father talked about him. If he kept calm, Brian would never have to know. 

_God, Bri, I'm so sorry I'm making you do this._

***

Back in the bedroom, Freddie, John, and Brian were all there. Two of the three smiled at Roger as he swung the door open, Brian remaining closed off.

"We were just telling Brian about his icy father," John explained, making Brian roll his eyes.

"I'm glad I missed breakfast," he began, getting off the bed where he had  _Challenge of the Stars_ open on his lap and moving closer to Roger, "and I'm sorry for freaking out. I just panicked that my mum would turn her back like my dad's obviously done." 

"Plus you told me not to be a ham, and I more than definitely violated that," 

Freddie perked up, shifting his bangs with his finger dramatically and gaping at his friends. 

"Ham? What did Roger do, Brian? How did he ham it up?" 

The two looked at each other, briefly trying to laugh off the question. Brian's expression was almost pained, and longing for something. 

_Probably longing for when he can be as far away from me as possible._

"Rog took it upon himself to kiss me when my mum came in,"

"Five times. I kissed him five times,"

"You sound awfully proud of that," John commented, mostly drowned out by Freddie's screaming. 

"Oh! How it pains me that this isn't real," Freddie lamented, prying for more information as Roger shooed everyone out of the room. Brian, however, hung behind.

Roger looked at him questioningly, indicating that he was going to be getting changed and would, in fact, like to keep his dignity. Brian remained unmoved, staring at Roger with his lip bitten back between his teeth. 

"Fine, don't leave. You want to see my cock? I'll show you right-"

"No! No! I didn't mean - ah, fuck. I'll go face the music downstairs. Have fun today, Rog." Brian scurried off, leaving Roger with his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his joggers, already halfway down by the time the door bounced shut. 

***

Brian's face was burning with the potential embarrassment of the encounter as he struggled to lug his body down the stairs. The rest of him was still cold and groggy from exhaustion - he'd been up the whole night mulling over his situation. He felt like he'd really let his guard down with his true feelings for Rog - he'd be lucky if Roger was still oblivious to the boy's  _glaringly_ obvious fancy to him. 

He reached the bottom of the stairs where he met a fork in the road - his bandmates smoking on the patio, or his family in a casual argument over decorations for the ceremony in the living room. He chose the former, feeling ready to confide in his mates about his predicament. 

The click of the backdoor opening drew John and Freddie's heads towards Brian standing sheepishly in the doorway, swaying back and forth about the frame. They beckoned him out, stubbing out their cigarettes, sensing as if it was time for a serious chat. 

"How goes it, bachelor?" Deacy joked, unsurprisingly earning no praise from Brian. 

"Shit. Absolute shit." 

"We could tell, dear. Come to our  _chauteau_ and tell us your woes." 

"Leave my granny flat alone..." Brian muttered, leading the way to the appendage attached to the main building. 

Brian divulged nearly his every thought and feeling he'd had for Roger, ever. It was exhausting for everyone involved, Brian to-ing and fro-ing as he remembered more details about his one-sided love story with Roger. John and Fred sat and listened intently, humming in all the right places to assure Brian that they were with him fully. The monologue finished with a much-expected  _"and I love him,",_ causing Freddie to clasp a hand to his heart. John smiled sympathetically, remembering how besotted he was with his wife when he was trying to 'get the girl', as it were. 

Brian lifted his sad, glistening eyes up to the two boys across from him. He was asking for help and advice with his expression, but he felt no-one knew what to say. 

"And he's just gonna drop me, just like that, as soon as he can get a new visa..."

"Maybe you can make him fall in love with you?" John offered uncertainly. 

"Oh come on, Roger Meddows Taylor is  _not_ gay. If I gave him Stockholm syndrome I'd just feel worse..."

Freddie gave a cryptic, all too assured, "You never know,", winking at Brian before dismissing himself to have a shower with Mary. 

It didn't help Brian at all. The poor advice from the two boys just gave him old ideas in new clothing, and nothing was any more resolved than it was yesterday, or the conflict he'd felt for the past several years. It helped to get it off his chest, free of judgment like he'd hoped it would be. Unfortunately, he'd just wasted more time by opening up to the wrong audience. 

He left the flat after giving John some ideas of places to go and see while in Cornwall so they could occupy themselves before the wedding, including a more raunchy area of town where a club called _Halo's_ sat. A strip club, to be exact.

On his way out, ready to face his family now at nearly midday, he caught his father's eye, who was lounging in the sun in his usual spot. He waved bashfully at his dad, turning to head back inside (to play some board game with his cousins that would definitely trigger an optical migraine) when his father beckoned him over. 

"I've been informed that I've not been a very good host so far, and I was far from welcoming yesterday to you and your... well, you and Roger. I'd like to say that I'm sorry." 

Brian beamed, knowing what his father was saying was almost one-hundred percent forced, but if he'd managed to find a halfway decent apology in himself, it probably wasn't all bad. 

"Thanks, dad. You know your opinion matters to me." 

"Mhm. My opinion right now is that your lanky self is in my sun, and you should probably see your mother before she heads off with that little blond one of yours." 

***

The car pulled to a halt in front of a small building, which could only be a club. The neon lights weren't so spectacular in the bright afternoon light of summer, yet the music blasted out of the four walls all the same.  _Halo's_ was the sign plastered above the canopy-like entrance to the club.

_Who knew. Cornwall: the county that never sleeps._

Roger felt apprehensive to get out of the car with the two women who were now in fits of giggles. Every time they tried to turn around and ask Roger to come with them, they relapsed into their private glee. Rog shifted around in the backseat, forcing himself to chuckle nervously.

"What's going on?" 

"You'll see, dear, you'll see. We wanted you to have some fun before Brian became your main focus... in that department," Ruth pointed impishly at Roger's crotch, causing her mother to gasp and hit her forearm playfully. 

_Oh. Jesus. Fucking. Christ._

Roger very nearly let the whole story unravel then and there - he might have to draw the line at actually having to get a lap dance from a guy. Or, _better_ _yet_ , something more intimate. 

Bass and drum music set a perfect tempo for the dancing men, swinging around poles, strutting up and down the long and narrow stages that were slightly elevated. It was no different from the strip clubs Roger went to, except this one was really challenging his sexual preferences. The men were muscular to a hilt, making Roger feel self-conscious about his rather skinny frame. 

Almost instantly, and of course the two ladies noticed this too, a man in one of the middle stages caught Rog's eye and winked slowly. Both women started whooping, shoving Roger ever closer to the stage. 

_Get this over with, get this over with, get this over with. Shove the money in his underwear - oh Christ of course he's not wearing anything other than a jock strap. Where do they put the money?_

 

"Alright, baby boy? What're we looking for today?" 

_Baby boy..._

Roger felt heat rise up to his face from his chest, and all the way down to the pit of his stomach. He gripped the arms of the plush chair he'd been shoved into by the broad man, who looked about a decade older than him. His knuckles went white, bones feeling as if they'd split his skin any minute. 

"I - I - I don't know what I want..." Roger spluttered his answer.

_Say it don't spray it, Roger, Jesus..._

The man merely smiled, getting his knees either side of Roger's lap and kissing his neck gently before getting to work on an, initially slow, lap dance.

Roger imagined his face was a picture right now, he felt his mouth drop open, moans escaping his lips in time with the rhythm of the man humping his crotch at a pace Roger could never match. His eyelids fluttered, head tipped back, realising the heat had now gone a little below his stomach. The sensation pooled where the man's weight rested, and all too soon Roger felt something harden between his body and the stripper. 

The stripper pushed himself off Roger, a little teasingly, Roger thought, as soon as he felt the erection. With the weight gone, he had a chance to let sink in how his body was reacting to this. He wished he could've said it was just the friction against his legs that brought that on, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it was more than just a natural, biological reaction.

 

His face burned with arousal and conflict. He just wanted to go home and forget this was all happening. And kill Prenter. Definitely stab Prenter on the way. If it wasn't for him, Roger wouldn't be stuck with homophobic Harold, raunchy Ruth, brooding Brian, and his own sexual conflict. Chucking money at the stage whilst the man's back was turned, feeling one final jolt of blood to his crotch as he saw muscles ripple subtly below sweaty skin, he hurried for the door, spotting Ruth and her mother on the other side. 

 _Go down go down go down. Down, little Rog,_ _down._

One thing caught his eye before he pushed open the double doors, though - Freddie, receiving the same treatment as he'd just had, from a man with a typical moustache and short haircut. He heard the name  _Jim_ leave Freddie's lips softly as he passed close to him on his route to the door, just missing the interaction heating up a little more than Roger had allowed his ' _Jim'_ to do. 

_Thank god I'm not the only one having sexual awakenings. Thanks for the holiday Brian, but I'm afraid we're all gay._

_Maybe Deacon is next..._

_Unlikely._

The car ride back to the house was blissfully free of any interrogation. His circulation had almost returned to normal, thank God, a little more time and there'd be no trace of today every happening. Roger vowed to himself to lie his way out of any enquiries of his day out - especially from Brian.

***

"Brian! Guess where we just took your  _boyfriend!"_ Ruth drawled out as she flamboyantly got out of the small vehicle, voice going up an octave as if she was his irritating younger sister as opposed to a mother.

Brian stood on the front doorstep, grinning at his mother's cheerfulness. He'd been waiting to greet Roger, who had just turned a sickly shade of pale green.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bismillah! The feedback I've been given on this is lovely, and you're all delightful. Thank you all so much for the kind words and for reading this, it means everything. Again, I slaved over this with anxiety, so I hope this much anticipated "Brian's reaction to the strip club" part doesn't disappoint ~
> 
> PS..... corny falling in love scene? check ✔︎

_Where did they take Roger?_

Brian's grin didn't falter, even when Roger knocked his shoulder forcefully into his when pushing past into the house. He raised an eyebrow at his mother who was now skipping down the drive. 

"Your boy had  _quite_ the time at Halo's," 

Although he could hear blood rushing in his ears, his pulse was no longer in his chest. 

"Halo's? You took Roger,"  _straight Roger, Roger's definitely straight,_ "to Halo's?" 

"Oh, love, don't feel jealous! Really, the expression on his face was quite something, but the lad popped off as soon as, y'know... _it_ happened," 

"Oh, mum! You weren't watching him, were you?" 

Brian was trying to play into the mock-disgust that'd be expected of him, as opposed to letting his eyes bulge out of his head at the mention of Roger getting an erection from a guy. He was supposed to know that Roger got it off over men, after all. He wanted to cheer, dance around, kiss someone ( _Roger_ ), and cry all at once. No, it had to have been an accident. Maybe Rog was picturing someone else while it was happening, just to make it more bearable. 

"Sorry, Brian... he does seem pretty shaken. Go find him, make sure he's okay, for me. Tell him I'm sorry,"

Rog had seemed pretty agitated, it wouldn't pay to press an explantation out of his friend right now. He predicted that he'd be hanging on the edge of his seat all night waiting for Roger to own up to anything. 

"I will, mum. Don't be too hard on yourself though. You didn't know he'd hate it..." 

"Well, I don't know that he  _hated_ it... as I say, his face said a thousand words, Brian."

"Mum! Enough about the face," 

_But please tell me more. Why didn't you take a picture, you were invasive enough as it is, snapping one for later wouldn't have hurt anybody._

"Oh shush. Go find your man," 

Regardless of all this, Brian still harboured his doubts. There was no way this was happening - things were going too well; if this was all genuine, he stood a slightly stronger chance of getting the guy than he did before. But nothing like this ever goes well, does it?

_No: Roger Taylor is a straight man and I'm going to die alone because of it._

*** 

Brian's mind was plagued with the expression his mother had told him about. God, what he'd give to see that look on Roger's face at least once in his life. Right now, however, all he needed to see was Roger - mouth open in pleasure or firmly shut in embarrassment. The sight on his bed was the latter, causing his heart to pang in guilt. 

"Roger, I am so, so sorry," Brian was by his side in an instant, pushing the blond fringe away from eyes that were red with repressed tears. Roger slapped the hand away, looking regretful as soon as he'd done it. 

"I don't want to talk," His response was barely audible, lips struggling to part with the salvia that was built up from the cries he'd kept in. 

Brian found it hard to relate to the retaliation Roger was putting up against his sexuality - bar the occasional stomach-churning thought of being disowned by his family, he'd accepted it with open arms.

"Hey, look at me. I know you're really set in your ways about what you like and what you don't, but I just had to tell you that it's okay that it's changing,"

"Oh fuck off, stop mothering me. Nothing's changed - I don't like men. I was imagining..." Roger fumbled for a name, anything, to back up his argument. The hesitation in Roger's spiel told Brian the whole truth.

"Roger, you can tell me -"

"I said I don't want to talk to you! You wouldn't know the first thing about sexual conflict. You've had Chrissie, you almost married  _her_ for fucks sake," Roger was off the bed, parading around the carpet with arms swinging in every direction. "So don't try and comfort  _me._ I see how your family treats you, and it's all right for you, because you can just bend right back into shape as soon as this is over. But Brian, I can't," His voice was desperate now, knees bending into each other almost as if he was pleading. "I can't because I would be lying if I said I wasn't."

Chests heaved, hearts pounded, tears fell. 

Roger pulled his hair back, choking up sobs in an erratic pattern and crinkling his eyes shut to try and force the tears to leave his body.

"I'm so scared, Brian, I'm so scared what people will think of me," 

His voice took on a higher pitch as he spoke around the lump in his throat. 

Brian wanted to tell Roger everything there and then. He couldn't, he shouldn't. It was a selfish move, Brian could admit, but he couldn't handle Roger putting two and two together about Brian's actions and feelings right now. Instead he slid off the bed, finding it more comfortable to pretend as if he didn't know Roger's struggle, slipping his arms around the boy's shoulders and pulling his curled body into his own. Roger eventually held him back, albeit with loose arms and a noncommittal air, calming down slightly. 

"I still like you," 

Roger pulled away, rubbing his eyes and face to hopefully bring it back to its usual colour. It could've continued to be a sweet, tender, moment, but Bri had had enough of the seriousness. 

"So, I heard you got a full on stiffy,"

"Oh shut up, Bri, I think you can piece the scene together yourself," Roger laughed, a relieving sound for Brian.

"Was he fit?"

"You could say that," 

***

Roger had had a long fucking day, to say the least. While he felt he was a few steps forward with figuring himself out, the way he heard Brian talking about him after dinner put him a little further backwards. 

_"I'm in love with him, and he's in love with me - yes, Harry, I'm sure. So no, I'm not put out by the strip club. Wonder how many times your wife has imagined someone else in bed?"_

Though Roger knew it was all for effect, it brought on that familiar jolt of energy in the pit of his abdomen. He wasn't supposed to have heard that conversation, he'd been eavesdropping from behind the closed kitchen door as the pair of cousins washed up after dinner. Nevertheless, it made Roger unsure of himself all over again. 

Lying awake in the bedroom that night, comforted by the knowledge that Brian was also wide awake on the bed across the room from his stiff couch, Roger felt serenity he hadn't felt since joining the band. His life almost felt mundane and normal - getting married in two days, on a domestic holiday of sorts with his boyfriend and friends. It hurt that this magic would all end in a couple of days. Roger could only remind himself that this arrangement was merely a business deal to keep him in the country and keep him drumming for Queen. 

"Hey, Bri?"

"Mhm?"

"Do you know anyone called Jim from 'round here?"

"Maybe? There's that Irish family closer to the town centre that had a son called Jim. He's about your age. Why?"

"Well..."

Brian crawled towards the edge of the bed to meet Roger's eyes. 

"Was he the one that gave you the lap dance?"

"Close enough," 

Brian cocked an eyebrow. Roger felt as if he shouldn't expose Freddie like this, but he was too far in this story now to turn back. 

"Freddie. Freddie was at Halo's, getting it from someone called Jim." 

"And? That surprised you?" 

"It doesn't surprise you? Our Freddie, the one with Mary? No?" 

Brian burst out laughing at Roger's oblivion, and Roger had no choice but to laugh along with him. They were in stitches for the next few minutes, tears flowing for a good reason, thankfully. 

"Come on, Rog, don't tell me you didn't know about Fred. I purposefully mentioned Halo's to him before you left this morning, thought I might give him some of his usual fun while he was here." 

"I feel like I'm the only one who has  _never_ had to deal with sexuality,"

"Don't discredit Deacon... straightest one of us really. So sure of it, in fact, that he didn't even give himself time to experiment," 

_Making you less than the straightest, Brian?_

Brian explained Freddie's newfound interest in men, and that no-one was to bring it up around Mary. Freddie was to do that in his own time. Roger was a bit uneasy with the infidelity of it all, but that was none of his business. 

Roger was hardly one for being touchy-feely, but he felt closer to Brian than he ever had. It felt like the two of them against Brian's dad, against Prenter, against whoever realised Roger had violated his visa. Brian was really taking a bullet for him. 

"How about yourself, Bri?" 

"What about me?" Roger could hear the temptation in Brian's tone to blank the question. He was too out of it to know to drop the subject. 

"Ever fancied a guy?"

***

_Have I ever._

"Not too sure, really. If I have I don't think I gave it much attention," 

Brian's throat went dry. He felt awful lying to Roger, especially after he'd been so candid earlier on about the same issue.

A few more beats of silence passed. They could hear laughter from the living room, directly below them, as his cousins had some friends around from the area. 

"You should try it sometime."

"What's that, Rog?"

"Falling for a guy. You might discover something,"

Brian thought about the past six years, stopping on the day they'd met in the summer of 1968. 

"Maybe I will, Rog," Brian agreed, "maybe that guy is right under my nose." 

Roger didn't hear that, though, for he was already letting out soft snores from across the room. 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had to get this scene out! also I wanted to have a little moment between Freddie and Roger at some point in this and I liked the idea of Freddie being like a dad to Roger during this. Hope you all don't mind a double update! <3

* * *

Brian, Roger, Ruth, and her mother wandered down the cobbled street of the town centre. Brian's grandmother had tried to shoo Brian off from coming with them to get Roger's suit fitted, as it was to be a surprise, but Ruth took sympathy on the boys, saying they ought to have time together before the big day.

"Mother, they'll be split up tonight. Give them this day." Ruth had argued. 

Roger nudged Brian as they trailed behind. "Why're we getting split up tonight?"

"Tradition, I suppose. I've never questioned it,"

"Not that it matters, I guess. We're split up anyway." 

Brian exhaled a laugh, letting it trail off into a sigh when he caught sight of a familiar figure just across the street. She was tall, slender, and had short brown hair. 

Chrissie Mullen.

Brian looked between Roger and his mother, both of which had spotted Chrissie too. His mother appeared to forget Roger even existed, excitedly ushering Brian over the way to reconnect with Chrissie. Roger couldn't imagine what the fuss was about Chrissie, seeing as she'd jilted Brian at the altar not two years ago.

He felt slight envy at the fact that Brian had a meaningful romantic relationship in the past, even if it had crashed and burnt. Roger had one night stands and messy breakups with hysterical girls who thought sex meant he loved them. Brian just looked so natural and happy standing with Chris, smiling and laughing along with her as they caught up on everything.

_How can they still look like they're in love?_

His grandmother's shaking hands came up around Roger's upper arm, steering him away from the interaction with an air of sympathy. She could sense Roger's upset at the scene, though Roger would deny that emotion even to himself.

"Now we've gotten rid of him, the superstition-less bastard, we can get you that suit, dear."

Inside the tailors, grandma had an agenda. She whizzed past the suits which were hung up in uniform rows, right to the back of the shop where she had a hushed conversation with the clerk before tottering back over to Roger. 

"This'll be very special for the whole family tomorrow... oh, Roger, everyone will just love you in this!"

The clerk came back, peeling the tissue paper covers off of the suit before delicately handing it over into the old woman's arms. She beamed with pride at the suit and Roger in turn, finally giving it over to Roger and pushing him gently into the fitting room. 

Just as Roger was ready to come out with the ill-fitting suit adorning him, he heard Ruth's voice. 

 _"Chrissie's very well - Brian even invited her to come along tomorrow!"_  

Roger swallowed a painful lump in his throat. 

Whipping the golden curtain back, embroidered with ochre velvet, he felt silly walking out in such a loose-fitting outfit. 

"Of course, we'll have to hem it," Brian's gran conceded, "my husband was a rather large fellow compared to you, you skinny lad."

***

Roger was incredulous, and Brian  _hated_ when Roger got incensed about something. 

"A fraud! I'm a fraud, Brian, I can't believe we're putting your poor family through this..." Roger stuck a hand in his hair, now back in his regular clothes and walking down the street with Brian. The ladies were in the shop to get the suit perfectly fitted to Roger's frame. "Your bloody grandfather's wedding tux! They're wheeling out a family relic for  _me_. Did you know that the ring they're giving me to where has also been in your wonderful family for  _five fucking generations_?"

Brian didn't know what to say, his occasional attempts at calming words only riling Roger up more. 

"And you! You're inviting your ex to our wedding?" 

Roger had evidently surprised himself with that outburst as much as his annoyance had shocked Brian. Brian would've thought that Chrissie getting invited would be water off a duck's back for Roger, maybe even relieving him that Brian's old romantic connections were there to take the spotlight off of Rog for a bit. 

"I thought you wouldn't mind... I thought it might be nice for everyone to see Chrissie again, since we're all down here. I know Ronnie missed her,"

"Oh fuck Ronnie! Chrissie jilted you - none of us appreciate her, smart-arse, none."

"Rog, that was so unnecessary, take that back about Ronnie before Deacon hears it from miles away and comes after you,"  

 "Talk about unnecessary, Chrissie's right up ahead of us if you want to go reignite your love with her! Just rip my visa right out of my hands, why don't you. I'm sure you'd get a kick out of seeing Prenter laugh in my face as he sends me packing on a plane." 

Brian was seething at Roger's assumptions. He loved this boy, god knows he did, he hated to hear Roger doubt it. Then again, Brian gave no indication that he felt anything other than what Roger was saying right now. About to launch into another argument, a hand rested on each of their shoulders and spun them around. Harold stood behind them, smugness plastered across his face. 

"You two are to come with me, and we never tell your mother what happened today. Never, ever." 

Soon enough the trio were in a café, the scent of coffee heavy and pleasant in the midmorning lull. The peace was soon broken by a familiar face at the back of the room, who Harold, unfortunately, was leading them straight towards. 

Paul Prenter sat reading a newspaper, folding it with extra flourish when the boys had reluctantly sat down. 

"Dad, what's he doing here?" Brian went quiet, stomach turning at the realisation that they'd been found out, and the game was over. He'd lose the love of his life, and have wasted his family's effort and love.

"Mr. Prenter here rung the house yesterday, confirming my suspicions that your relationship and subsequent  _marriage_ was not all that genuine,"

"Your  _suspicions_? That's rich! That's truly brilliant, dad, knowing that you don't trust me."

They all ignored Brian's outburst, Prenter favouring to hum an irritating little number off the charts as he pulled a tape recorder out. 

"Roger, I warned you about this when we first discussed your predicament. Now, all I need you to do is declare clearly to the tape that you acknowledge that your relationship with Brian Harold May has been fabricated in order to evade British law. I will not cause any more problems for you if you comply, deportation procedures go forth as they would if you hadn't have tried to pull this one on me," 

"Fine, I will." 

Brian sunk in his chair, near tears. 

The tape recorder clicked. 

"I, Roger Meddows Taylor, acknowledge that I am madly in love with Brian Harold May and plan to marry him tomorrow, August 15th as we have always wanted to since the start of our engagement in 1973." Irony dropped from his words.

Paul, dumfounded and about to smash a coffee mug over Roger's head, slammed the recorder on the table, loosing any verbal evidence he may have had. Brian hadn't paid particular attention to what had just happened, only coming back to Earth when Roger's hand slipped into his own, leading him briskly towards the high street. He was vaguely assured that he wasn't losing Roger, not for now at least. 

He was raging at his father in every corner of his body. 

***

"Then he fucking told us that if I denounced Brian as my fiancé he'd deport me anyway!" 

The band were lounging in the garden, right at the bottom as to not be heard by any member of the May family. Brian was too upset to talk, being soothed by Veronica's hands rubbing his shoulders. John had that terrifying look on his face that only appeared once in a blue moon when he'd really had enough of the arguments in the studio. 

"I'm sorry I got him involved with us," Freddie admitted quietly. They were all quick to assure him he couldn't have known what a betrayal Paul would turn out to be, and they could only strive to outsmart him. 

"I'm sorry about your father though, Brian, that must sting," Mary ran her thumb over Freddie's knuckles, Roger wincing at the affectionate sight. 

_How long did those two have together?_

He stared at Brian's profile. 

 _He's got a_ _lovely face._

_How long do us two have together?_

Roger felt invested in Brian and his relationship, superficial or not, they were probably in for higher stakes than most couples could ever be. He wanted to run his thumb over his knuckles, tell him it would all be alright after tomorrow. Even then, he felt the irreparable damage between Brian and Harold had already formed - and it was all Roger's doing. 

_I've really just undone twenty-seven years of father-son bonding in two days. I'm a real prize._

Brian got so upset he had to excuse himself to go for a walk around the fields for a while. Not even Roger tried to go with him, he knew it would be unhelpful. 

"They're giving me multiple family relics for tomorrow," 

A chorus of ' _oooh_ 's surrounded Roger, who nodded his head at the wounded sounds his friends made. 

"How're you gonna tell them that they just cut up a decades old suit for nothing, Rog?" John elbowed Roger, deliberately but playfully trying to make him feel worse. 

"Oh hush, Deacy," Roger looked down into the beer bottle in his hand that lit up his bare chest in a green light, pretending to be fascinated by the physics of light and colour while he thought about his answer. 

"It won't be for nothing, because I get to keep all of you," 

As much as Roger tried to make the meeting with his mates meaningful, none of them were having the sappy response, coating Roger in the dried grass beneath their feet in pretend disgust.

***

Roger couldn't help but admire how he looked in the now perfectly fitting suit. Neither could anyone else in the house, showering their soon to be something-in-law in compliments and awe. 

"Looks better than grandad, doesn't he?" Harry piped up, garnering equal amounts laughter and scoffs from the rest of the family. Roger just smiled shyly, imaging how Brian would look tomorrow. 

Worry still wracked his very being at the sheer knowledge of Paul's presence in the once untainted county.

_Cornwall has been tarnished by Paul Prenter's footsteps forever._

Tonight there was to be an official 'stag-do' of sorts. No strip clubs, as he'd made Ruth promise, just drinking and partying as they all knew how to do. He was worried about how Brian would feel about it, whether he'd be up to it or not. Knowing Brian, he'd force himself into it in an attempt to not seem miserable but just come out of it more upset than ever, like when he had hepatitis and tried to do some shows to prove his strength. Roger found himself remembering things about Brian with a fondness he'd never had before.

_I'll do whatever Brian's doing. It's time I be there for him too. I certainly have dues to pay to that bastard now._

Harold was just as scarce as Brian, but it was safe to assume they wouldn't be caught dead in the same area as each other at this moment in time. 

***

"Very smart, darling, now who's walking you down the aisle?" 

"I was hoping you'd do it, Freddie." 

As much as Freddie over-praised and acted as if he adored himself, all in good fun, he was genuinely humbled by Roger's choice. He graciously agreed, ready to leave Roger to change into something more comfortable when Roger caught him by the wrist. 

"I need to talk to you about something, well a couple of things, but one thing mainly." 

The two were in Roger's room right up until the first guests arrived, most of the time was occupied with Roger regretting his decision to confide in someone.

"Oh spit it out, darling, I saw champagne downstairs and I've been gasping for a whole magnum to myself ever since. What is the issue?"

"IwasinHalo'syesterdayandIgotanerectionandIsawyouand-"

"Slow it right down!" 

"I'm bisexual, Freddie,"

"Good start. That's perfectly okay, dear, as are a lot of people nowadays, you'd be surprised" 

 "I think I'm falling for Brian,"

"Finally! Lord above, finally!"

Roger went deep red in embarrassment, wishing he could steal downstairs to the party. He did hate missing out, after all. 

"You're not going anywhere - you need to tell him, Roger. Tell him before you two blow up the damn moon and forget to tell each other you love each other before this whole 'marriage magic' shit runs out." 

Roger shifted nervously under Freddie's glare. 

"Promise me you'll say something and you can go."

"I promise." 

Roger wasn't going to say anything, not in a million years, but it was nice to have it out there all the same. It would hurt Brian more, and after everything Brian's had to go through with pretending to be gay he couldn't be the straw that broke the camel's back by trying to make things real.

"Oh and Fred?"

"What, darling? If I miss out on booze because of this you're taking me out tonight on your own dime,"

"I saw you at Halo's," Roger wished he could take it back, "with Jim."

Freddie smiled fleetingly, conflict and guilt spread over his face. "Speaking of which, he's just walked through the door. As has your beau, Roger."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry! this chapter's a bit of a heartbreaker... I promise, it's not the end though. once again, thank you all, I've never been more motivated to write than I am now. love you all <3

Shoulder to shoulder, they stood together on the patio. Brian occasionally pointed out constellations at Roger's request.

"What about that star? It's glowing really bright,"

"That's a plane, Rog. The one next to it, though, is part of the Apus... which you can see the rest of here," Brian drew the Bird of Paradise with his finger, Roger giving a soft  _"ah"_ in response. 

As soon as Brian had walked in the door with Jim, Roger had whisked Brian out to the back garden. Brian savoured these last moments of domesticity before the spell would be broken tomorrow, the man of his dreams acting out the wedding his family had always wanted for Brian. Mostly, anyway. 

"I found Chrissie while I was out,"

"Oh?"

"Yeah... I uninvited her." 

"For me?"

Brian laughed at Roger's surprise, "You were pretty het up about it, what was I supposed to do?"

Roger squeezed his eyes shut, fighting all sorts of emotion. He craned his neck up slightly to look at Brian, who had his eyes fixed determinedly on the night sky. He couldn't make out much of his face, but there was a small back light coming from the kitchen that allowed him to glimpse just enough. 

_Tell him._

"Why don't we rejoin the party? May as well get panelled once while we're here, make it business as usual,"

Brian sighed in relief.

"We'll get to have that fucking album sorted when we get back from this," it was nearly a groan of pleasure. Roger giggled at Brian's revelation before turning to enter the house.

***

Roger had forgotten how well drinking took away his worries. He was easily gelling with everyone at that party, back to his old self it seemed, to those who knew the outgoing side of Roger. He was disappointed, to say the least when all of his new mates started departing in large chunks, eventually leaving the house desolate as drunk family members tried to clean up the house as best they could. 

"Just- j- just for- forget it. Deal with it tomorrow..." Brian's aunt struggled to tell her sons who were failing at picking up glasses and plates that had been carelessly left in all corners of the house. 

"Time for bed, love?" Brian came up behind him, breath warm and smelling of drink. He glanced around the room to see if there was any particular reason Brian was calling him love, or if it was just an off the cuff thing they were doing now. To his dismay, multiple family members lay strewn across the couch, moving sluggishly as they laughed in low tones. 

"If that's alright with you, darling," Roger made sure he sounded as sarcastic as he did the night he stayed at Brian's flat, the first night they'd spent as a 'couple'.

At the mention of  _bed_ , Ruth came flying around the corner, nearly knocking both of them over.

"No you don't! Brian's to be sleeping with the rest of your friends tonight, Roger - all part of the tradition." 

_Perfect. I was about to pull the 'my back hurts too' card and get him into bed with me..._

_No, I wasn't, but now I don't get a shot at it even if I wanted one._

"Alright, mum. I'll see you tomorrow, Roger," Brian beamed, holding onto Roger's little finger with his own as he tried to back out of the room, "our big day!" Faux-excitement.

Brian didn't let go, nor did he leave the room. He, as did his mother, stared at Roger expectantly. He tilted his head in confusion, which was a missed-cue too far for Brian. He leant down, taking Roger's lips in his own, leaving them there for a beat longer than Roger felt they should be for a meaningless embrace. Despite this, he still held his head out for a second too long after Brian had slipped out of his arms, and then out of the room. 

_Brian's really laying it on thick, isn't he. Tells Harry he's in love with me, willingly kisses back, now he initiates it? If only the arse knew how much he was killing me._

"Sorry to break you two apart love, but as we say," Ruth kissed Roger's temple, "tradition."

The familial love he felt was overwhelming, and his heart felt heavy. How could they ever forgive him for using them so shallowly?

***

For the first and final time, Roger lay in the middle of the double bed, covers tightly wrapped around his body for comfort. The bed smelt like Brian. 

_I can't go through with this._

He was a little taken aback at his thoughts, but he knew it was how he really felt. He'd felt that way since he'd seen the looks on most of their faces whenever he and Brian lay in each other's arms on the sofa, whenever they stole kisses during dinner, when they held hands absentmindedly while they spoke to other people or performed banal tasks. They were tethered to each other at all times, nearly 

The suit, the ring, the family's excitement that'd be crushed as soon as they divorced. And now Paul was back on the scene, Roger knew he couldn't get away with this for much longer. Prenter always found a way, and this time would be no exception.

_I need to tell them before the ceremony._

Roger drew out the constellations Brian had been showing him with the lines on the ceiling.

_Ara. Volans. Pictor. Columba. Arus._

He turned his head to look at the beautiful suit that was hung on the door of the wardrobe.

_I really can't go through with this._

_***_

John and Ronnie had tried to stick around to talk to Brian, but as usual, the couple had other ideas. Hard to keep them apart these days. 

Brian was in the living room of the granny flat, Freddie on the cushion next to him as Mary sat in front of the TV, switching the channel every now and again. 

"Nervous, Bri?"

"What the hell do you think?"

"Oh Bri, he was just asking. Want a drink for the nerves?" Mary offered, turning the TV off and shifting around to face the boys on the couch.

"I've had plenty to drink, thanks. It probably wasn't a fantastic idea to have done that now..."

"Nonsense, darling, booze fixes everything."

"Freddie..."

"Sorry, Mar..."

Freddie massaged Brian's neck between his fingers and thumb while Brian thought over everything. He would soon lose the liberty to openly show his true feelings for Roger under the guise of being a convincing actor. The kiss this evening was a definite risk, but whatever ill-feeling Roger harboured about it was ample payback for how Roger had made him feel the first morning here. 

"I wish this could be like a Groundhog Day moment, I just live this weekend over and over," 

"You sure, Bri? It's seemed pretty stressful,"

"And full of betrayals, in my honest observation," Freddie added. 

"Oh you know what I mean. If I could take the sweet moments with Roger - oh, god, he let me show him the sky earlier tonight. I'm surprised that didn't unravel me there and then," 

The couple tutted and awe'd. Soon they had Brian in an embrace, holding him together. 

"Tell him, Brian," Freddie whispered. Brian nodded into the crook of Freddie's neck. 

_Not a chance in hell._

***

 _St. Columb Minor Parish,_ read the enamel sign at the mouth of the steep driveway to the church. Roger's stomach was bouncing around in his body, bile rising in his throat, swallowing it down desperately in case it came up over the suit. He was car sharing with Freddie and Mary, Brian had John and Veronica as John had been appointed best man. 

_"Why don't I get any bridesmaids?"_

_"Roger..."_

_"No, I see how it is. Always overlooking the women of the world - Mary, Ronnie, rise up with me!"_

_"For god sakes, Roger, get off the snooker table! And put the damn cue down before you rip out the lights,"_

Roger had tried to will time to slow down as the car crawled up the incline, but he was soon reminded that the time was upon him. Multiple cars were already there as Roger had to be the last to arrive - he'd be the one walking down the aisle today. 

The suit clung to his body even more so with the sweat he was producing. Freddie and Mary smiled at him, trying to get him to look a little positive, but it was no use. Roger was going to be sick, and the heat radiating from inside the cosy, yet ornate, church was no help. Mary set off to find her seat ahead of the boys, leaving Freddie to give his well-planned pep talk. 

"Roger, you need to listen to me. If you don't do this, you'll lose any chance with Brian - for a while at least." 

"I know,"

"Do you? If you really knew, you would've kicked yourself into gear before now!"

"It's not that easy Fred - you know better than anyone it's not that easy."

Freddie gave a look that said  _touché._ He slid his arm through Roger's, apparently willing to give up on Roger if it meant he didn't have to talk about his own hangups.

"Ready, Rog?"

"Ready, Freddie." 

Freddie controlled the pace of the walk that grew a few steps longer the further they strayed down the strip of carpet. Roger didn't dare let himself look at anyone. 

Before he knew it, he'd been given away, and was now standing face to face with Brian. 

The sight knocked the air out of his lungs. 

"You look,"

"Whipped?"

"No, no... handsome, Bri, really gorgeous,"

"Rog, you don't need to say that stuff now. It's all right, no one can hear us." 

That was true, to everyone's ears they were just hissing at each other. They could've been arguing about the colour of the sky, and as long as they looked affectionate while doing it, they could've fooled anyone. But that's not what this was about for Roger anymore.

"But if we're being honest, you don't look half bad yourself." 

The vicar read through his usual marital speeches from the leather-bound book spread open in his hands. He looked between Roger and Brian as he spoke. 

_I need to back out I need to back out I need to -_

"Do you, Brian Harold May take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do."

"And do you, Roger Meddows Taylor take this man to be your lawfully wedded wi - husband? Husband?"

_Oh Christ oh Christ oh -_

"I... don't."

The room was no longer warm. Roger's sweat was coming cold down his body. He turned away from the vicar, from Brian's crestfallen face, towards the gasps of the pews.

What he saw further confirmed his decision. There, in the front row, sat Harold May smiling as if he'd won the lottery - Roger supposed he had. Just two rows back from that was Paul Prenter, the same look on his face that he had in the café. 

 _"I knew I'd get you,"_ he mouthed at Roger. He'd just prodded the burning fire in the core of Roger's being. 

"Hi, hello, thank you all for coming today. I know, and I recognise, the effort you've all put in on such short notice to make this a special day for Brian and I, but," he looked directly into the eyes of Brian's grandmother which were filling with tears. He wondered if what he was about to say would kill her. "The reason all of this is such short notice is because it's the same way for the two of us. Yes, we've known each other for six years, but we've only been friends for the whole time."

A mumble came across the people in the seats. Again, he didn't dare look too hard at anyone, not wishing to gauge the reaction of his audience. He twirled the ring around his ring finger, sliding it off and holding it up. 

"So, I'm so very sorry. I really am. Thank you for your hospitality, for your acceptance of Brian - for the most part. Despite him actually being straight as an arrow, I think your lad's really gotten to see some people's true colours this weekend," shooting a look at Harold, "and now you're seeing mine. Brian's only marrying me to keep me from getting deported. I've violated my visa, and now it's time for me to pay my dues and go home."

He stopped to take in and revile the poorly covered-up sighs of relief at the announcement that Brian wasn't gay. At least he'd undone some of his damage.

"Take me away, Prenter," 

And with that, Roger was out of the church, Prenter frog marching him by the elbow. As he passed Brian's grandmother, he slid off the suit and laid it in her lap along with the ring.

"Thank you, Mrs. Irving. And thank you, Mrs. May. You really helped me out this weekend," He looked over to Ruth for a final time, who looked defeated. Her son had been jilted at the altar once again; maybe she was beginning to think it would always end up like this. 

Paul threw him into a car, driving them back to London where Roger would take flight later that day. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kind of a filler, sorry that I didn't update yesterday! broke my stride. we're nearly at the end of this now, sadly - two or so chapters left I have planned. hope it's not too clunky, and that it's enjoyed ~

His vision blurred all the lights of London together. Paul had been talking at him for the whole ride despite not getting a reply, he couldn't risk talking now. All that would come out would be a humiliating sob, and he couldn't take the taunts from Prenter right now. He'd let the tears build up in his eyes, letting them sting the corners just to feel something, blinking them out once he was sure Paul was invested in something else.

He wondered what Brian and the others were doing right now. Probably clearing up the carnage that was left in Cornwall. Roger couldn't imagine any one of them wanting to come dashing after him - he wasn't worth a five hour drive after what he'd done.

_I'll be paying the price with a seven hour plane ride._

His inner conflict was raging harder than ever. He knew he liked Brian, felt like he shouldn't have done what he did, but at the same time couldn't imagine the situation going well either way. 

_I'd get controlling and force Brian to stay if we got married. He'd hate me whatever path I chose._

"I hope you're very ashamed of yourself for using Brian," Paul took on the tone of a disappointed parent. One look at his face betrayed this façade, as he had the biggest self-righteous grin spread across it. 

"Another word out of you and I'll push you out the car," 

"Careful, tiger, I'm inclined to say I'm a lot stronger than you." 

Roger bit his tongue, rolling his neck and bouncing his leg aggressively in an attempt to get out frustration. He sensed Paul getting annoyed at the movement, revelling in the negative attention.

"I can't wait to see the back of you, Taylor, I've waited for this day since you lot took me on,"

"No one took anyone on! 's far as I remember you forced your way in," 

Paul continued to not-so-gently tease Roger about his apparent 'sensitiveness'. Roger didn't want to leave the country, but god almighty if it meant he didn't have to listen to this anymore...

It was easy to tune out if he focused on the sights of London he'd never paid much attention to before. He was always drunk out of his mind when being driven through the city, or with a vice-around-the-skull type of hangover. Monday night in London felt claustrophobic, he could even feel it through the metal confines of the car. He undid his seatbelt in hopes to free his body or his mind, but it was quickly yanked back over his torso by an enraged Paul.

"First you try and elope, now you're trying suicide? If you  _die_ on  _my_ hands... well, I'll be taking it up with you when we meet in hell." 

Roger turned to face Paul completely, shaking his head and crying. 

"Oh for chrissakes, what's the matter with you lad?"

"I've made so many mistakes," 

"No shite, mate. You're an ugly crier, you are. Didn't have money on that one,"

"Did you h-have m-money on me fal-ling for Br-Brian?" He wasn't so much crying as he was dry heaving. He was past sad or angry - he was purely hysterical. 

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, where's this come from? You left him down in Cornwall, Taylor, you don't get to convince me that you're in love with him now," Paul tutted, finally shifting the car forward and breaking traffic for the first time in fifteen minutes. "No chance."

"I wasn't trying to," the movement of the car had calmed Roger a little, the pressure around his chest easing off with less cars around them. Roger recognised the streets now, they were near Roger's house. 

"As if... we're nearly there. You have forty-five minutes to pack up and go." 

Roger was ready to give in. Paul was a man of his word, and nothing if not consistent - no weaselling his way out of this one. 

Inside his flat was cold and uninviting. It already felt like it wasn't his home anymore. He didn't have it in him to pack all of his belongings right now, his whole body ached and his heart was heavy in his chest. He wasn't even granted a proper goodbye to Freddie, John, or Brian, not to mention everyone else he knew here. 

_Suck it up Roger._

Packing things from the bathroom first, he eventually got around to the task of fitting all of his clothes into the bag. 

_Oh, no._

As soon as he opened the doors of the wardrobe he was hit with sentimentality. Outfits worn at big venues, small venues, lavish birthday parties, long nights at scroungy pubs - noting the black flare trousers which still had sick down them. He came across the shirt he'd been wearing when he and Brian first got to argue over musical decisions, the moment when it all felt as if it was falling into place. 

He chucked the lazily folded fabric into the suitcase. 

_I was wearing this when I met him._

He pulled gently, like it was an artefact he could damage if he wasn't careful, at the light blue button up, half in the closet and half out. 

He'd been chatting up some girl outside of the buildings on Stratford Campus. It was hotter than people were used to, being in the UK and all, so most of the students had decided to make the most of it on the lawns of the grounds. His shirt was undone completely in hopes of attracting someone, a goal he achieved about six times over in those few hours. Most importantly, he'd attracted Brian to him that day. They shared a beer as Brian, the boffin, had gotten out of a private lecture later than he should have and missed the alcohol entirely. Brian was just starting his masters, Roger nearly done with his bachelors. They talked about that, moving onto music gradually, and the rest was history. 

Roger knew Brian would be a special part of his life from that day onwards, but Christ, he couldn't have imagined this. 

_I just wish I could've told him._

***

"Please dad! We've got to get there, we need to leave right now." He didn't know what he was going to do when he got to Roger, but he knew he couldn't give up this easy. 

Brian had shot down the aisle as soon as he'd recovered from the shock of Roger leaving. He was too slow, the car had already peeled down the drive as he got halfway out the door. 

Picking cars at random, Brian jiggled each handle in turn, coming up fruitless each time. 

"Don't just stand there, gawping at me! Someone unlock the  _fucking_ car!" 

Clicks and beeps surrounded Brian in an instant. 

"Thank you!" he yelled back haughtily, waving his arms as he spun around, deciding which car to take. 

"Wait for us, Bri," Freddie, John, Mary, and Veronica had pushed through the wall of May's that stood in a semicircle around the courtyard. They made the choice of car for Brian, opting for the one they'd driven down in, the one Roger and Freddie had come to the church in. The wedding felt years away now, time was going so slowly. 

Brian turned helplessly towards his family, a desperate look on his face. He made eye contact with his father for the longest, a look that he hoped said:  _'I'm sorry, but I'm still your son.'_

 Out of the corner of his eye he saw his mother and grandmother lurch forward, hesitating for a single beat, then running straight for the car. Harold remained unmoved. 

"Dad-" 

Knees hitting pebbles cut Brian short. Gasps came from everyone, forcing Brian to look over his shoulder. On her side, only steps from the car door, lay his grandmother, groaning and writhing. 

_Oh my god we've killed her. We just killed my grandmother._

Those who had gotten comfortable in the car debased themselves, running to help. 

"Is she having a heart attack?"

"Roger would know..."

"She does have heart problems... oh, god... Harold! Would you come over here and help your mother-in-law! All the tension probably did her in," 

The old woman kept squirming under everyone's touch. Harold looked briefly remorseful, soon changing his expression to looking inconvenienced when he ran to help. 

"Gran, gran... I'm so sorry we stressed you out - you put your heart - sorry - your soul into this wedding and we've done nothing but cause problems,"

" _We?"_ Harold countered. "There's no  _we_ , I'm surprised she didn't do this when you brought a lad to the house! I'm even more surprised she didn't keel over when you said you were joining a band and dropping out of university, god knows I nearly died when I heard the news!" 

_So that's what all this is about._

"You know what, dad? I think you're just projecting your own problems onto her. Makes you feel less shitty about hurting your own flesh and blood, doesn't it?"

"Oh for goodness sakes!" His grandmother gradually rose up, right as rain. Ruth sighed, covering her face with her hands, everyone else following suit. "I only did that to see if it'd mend something between you two, help you see eye to eye for once." No one moved a muscle. "Well? We have a fiancé to catch! Just forget what I did and let's go," 

"You can't just do stuff like that!" Brian tried to sound angry, but it only ended up falling flat. He was running out of time and in no position to be arguing with anyone. He and his father did work together, however, on helping her small frame off the ground and into the third row of seats in the car, hoping it would please his grandmother for a little while. 

"I stop for nothing on this drive. If I can concentrate on driving we'll make up time pretty quickly. Need to pee? Need to eat? Tough."

"Can we cannibalise Freddie?" John butted in. 

"Be my guest, darling." 

"Do what you'd like, so long as I don't have to stop the car." 

***

Halfway through the journey Ruth's hand slid around her son's arm, grabbing his attention. Brian hummed distractedly, indicating that he was at least half listening. 

"Brian, love, can I ask you something?" 

"Sure, mum,"

"When did you know you loved Roger?" 

"When did I say I loved-"

"Brian, I can tell. Sure, you were acting like you were engaged, but the feeling was all there. And if you must know, I got that impression from him, too." 

Brian exhaled through his nose, flaring his nostrils in frustration at having to think of Roger right now. Would they be too late?

"We were performing live for the first time as Queen. Second, actually, but first time with a full set. It was in a pub near Imperial College. I looked behind me before playing our last song of the evening and I just," Brian shook his head at himself, almost embarrassed that it wasn't more romantic, "I just knew. It'd been two years being mates by that point and I guess when I saw how he looked with his face all sweaty and euphoric, I thought: 'this is the real deal'," 

He shrugged as if he didn't have the weight of the world on his shoulders. His mother spoke no more of it, letting his father take the floor. 

"Brian-"

"I'm driving." 

"I can see that. I'm sorry I did what I did, as you _are_  my son at the end of the day,"

"But?"

"I don't approve of, well, most of what you're doing-" 

"Harold..."

"I'm just being honest, Ruth. What I'm trying to say is that while I'm reluctant to accept your choices, I still realise that you're a driven lad with an incredible desire for success, and I believe that you of all people can make the most of this path in a way most people can't." 

Brian bit the inside of his cheek. 

"Okay." 

"Just think about it, son. Don't hate me for the time we have together. Things can fall apart so quickly," 

 _Just like it_ _did with Roger, hey dad? Rubbing salt in the wound as ever._

"Told you I'd bring those two a little harmony," Brian's grandmother boasted, nudging Freddie, as those two had been listening intently the entire time. Brian could see them in the rearview mirror,  leaning over the second row of seats where John, Ronnie, and his father were situated.

"Did you really have to fake a heart attack for that, mother? Honestly..." Ruth looked into the back of the car from the passenger seat, only met by a knowing wink from her mother. 

***

"Bloody London traffic."

It was early evening now, and Roger was at his fingertips. His passengers were all sleeping, exhausted by the commotion of the day followed by the strict silence of the vehicle. It was like the shock of going from hot water into cold air. Brian sat and grumbled for the remainder of the ride, talking to himself in hopes of keeping his sanity. 

Cars on all four lanes crawled a millimetre a minute. His chest tightened with every glance at his watch, time slipping away faster and faster with every jolt of the car. Subsequently, Roger was also slipping through his fingers like sand. He looked at the ring on his wedding finger, the last gesture Roger had done. Roger's fingers had shaken and were slick with sweat. Brian was sure he'd drop the ring, but he managed to get a hold of Brian firmly enough to slide it on. It was every bit his wildest fantasy, so near to coming true.

_One half of a promise, one that'd have him in my arms right now. I made him a promise - I have to keep it._

_I have to tell him._

Taking in the way that the simple, golden band bounced the deep orange streetlights that shone on gridlocked roads, Brian knew what he had to do. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a broken woman.  
> Anyway! this is the last chapter of the MAIN story, but if you guys think I could add anything to the story before this chapter I'll try and fit it in, I'm open to editing it if you guys think it needs more oomph in any parts.  
> I was gonna leave you guys hanging after chapter 7 but I just couldn't do it. I couldn't do it to myself either. So, voila.
> 
> also, wrote this with '39 in mind, see if you can find the line where it really shows :)

6:03. None of Roger's lights were on.

_Fuck fuck fuck._

Startling everyone, Brian jammed the car to a halt and ran to the chipped door of the building, he could see a small slip of paper taped to the door. Every fibre of his being prayed to the stars he spent years slaving over studiously that it'd be from Roger. 

 _To anyone in pursuit of R. Taylor._  
_Gone to the studio (17 St. Anne's Court for those not in the know)_  
_Had to pick up a couple of things. Be back very, and I mean very, late this time._  
_R.M.T._

For all Brian knew, Roger could be long gone by now. Who knows how long he had to spend at the studio? 

_It's worth all I've got._

People were just stirring in the car when Brian, again, startled everyone into alertness by viciously backing out of the narrow street. 

"Where are we going now, Brian?" John rested a hand on the corner of the driver's seat, leaning around to level his head with Brian's upper arm. 

"Trident." 

"Oh, not now! Why would we do that? I've had enough trauma for one day," Freddie protested, getting a light slap from Mary.

"Roger might still be there." Brian muttered, wincing when people honked their horns at him, carelessly overtaking people as he never would under regular circumstances. 

"If we die on the way there, none of us will ever see him again. Slow down, Bri," Mary cut in, body bent over John's seat back. 

"If I slow down we won't see him again either," 

Brian knew he'd missed the point, but nothing was going to stop him now. 

***

Roger felt Chris watching him from behind the glass. Roger had to pack up his writing from the studio before he left, there was no way he was leaving them behind. 

_If they find I'm In Love With My Car and I'm not here to defend myself for it, I may as well not bother with coming back into the country._

He turned around to make a quip at Chris, jokingly offer to record the drums now with three minutes to spare, but he'd left his position behind the mixing desk. 

_Where's he gone?_

Their recording space being so close to the street, he could hear multiple car doors banging shut, which was a rare occurrence for this time of night down by a low-rent studio. He didn't have time to marvel at what London had dragged up tonight, turning his back on the window and deciding to make conversation with the technicians that were still hanging about, likely still there to piece together tracks left behind by other bands. 

"So, I've gotta get going now anyway. Sorry you've got to get a session guy in, I'm sure he won't measure up to me," Roger was announcing, immodestly, when he saw the heads of the technicians looking around his body, straining their necks to get a better look at the space behind him.

_Did I really lose their interest so quickly? Is there a murderer behind me, waiting to - oh, my god._

There, flanked by his two best friends and Chris, was Brian. Shattered, teary eyed, out of breath, but still Brian. 

Roger opened and closed his mouth, his spit tasting more and more metallic as he did so. 

"Bri, you're too late," Roger breathed out, being so quiet as he wished he didn't have to say those words.

He was beyond frustrated. He just wanted this to be a smooth departure - he couldn't miss his flight. A car crash on top of a train wreck, that would be. 

"I figured - I drove to your house and you weren't there. I wasn't prepared to give up on this." 

Brian rubbed skeletal fingers down his rough skin, letting his fingertips pull at his bottom lip. 

"Please, hear me out." 

Roger self-consciously folded the pages of lyrics into the pocket of his suitcase, indicated for the technicians to mind their own business, and sat down expectantly.

"I've loved you for four years, Roger, and I had a feeling that I might end up in love with you someday well before that," Brian began, pulling the wedding band from his finger, perching it delicately between his fingertips and thumb. Roger flushed, trying hard to suppress a flattered smile.

"And I've just fallen harder for you everyday since. This weekend, well, this weekend damn near killed me. Being around you like that, your lips to mine, what happened in the strip club," Roger shot his friend a warning glare, making Brian bow his head slightly before continuing, "God, I wanted nothing more than for it to be my reality. I still want that. So when you walked away from me in the church, I was devastated in my heart, but in my head I still thought that friends is all we could've ever been - so it was fitting that we didn't get married today. I've never expected anything more.

"But on the way up here I did some thinking - mum asked when I fell in love with you, so, I told her.

"Rog, just recalling that night filled me with such unbridled joy that I couldn't let you get away without telling you my truth. Here it is, for everyone to see. Even the technicians. Even my dad," Brian paused, inane grin nearly breaking his face in half, "and, right on time for the climax, Paul Prenter." 

Roger turned half-heartedly, nervously glimpsing Paul, not wanting to look too hard in fear that it might trigger some awful chain of events. The man was an omen of bad luck. 

"Now I have a sufficient audience, not that I needed one, here we go again."

Before Roger had time to process it, Brian was down on one knee, arms out stretched with the ring extended to Roger's face. 

"Roger Taylor - for my life, still ahead, marry me?" 

 

Roger shook on the spot, knees buckling. 

_Can I do this?_

His hesitation wasn't Paul, no - it was his own track record with relationships. 

_I can't trust myself to do this. I'll hurt him, I'll rip his heart out and crush it into a bloody mess on the concrete without even noticing I've done it._

_Why me?_

For the second time that day, when Roger should've been saying yes, he was reluctantly answering 'no'. As the syllable fell from his mouth, Brian's life crumbled into a million pieces, Roger could tell that much from the slight drop in the corners of his mouth, the light dimming behind his eyes.

"Wh-why not?"

"Because, Brian... the reason I've been alone so long is because it's better that way. You know I could have someone if I wanted but I _don't_. Why? I don't trust myself. I'm not happy alone, but I'm happier not breaking someone's heart over something more than a one night stand. Believe you me, I can feel myself falling in love with you every second, but I can't-"

"Can't what? Roger, please, we both know we have something - we could have something. I'll do anything,  _anything_ to make you stay."

Roger wanted to say yes, and so badly did he want to take Brian into his arms with a ring on his finger, sharing affections they both knew weren't meaningless.

_Could I? Should I? Someone give me a fucking sign..._

"Roger, you bitch! For the love of all that is good and holy, say  _yes."_ Freddie snapped, cutting through the suffocating atmosphere of the room. 

"Can we please make our minds up, boys? I need to know if I'm booking Taylor another god damn flight or not," 

They all looked at Prenter, really wishing he hadn't spoken at all. Still, they were all pleased he wasn't chasing Roger out of the country with a pitchfork at that moment, so it wasn't all bad.

_Good enough for me._

"Brian-"

"Forget it, if you don't feel like I can handle you then-"

"I'll marry you."

Brian gaped like a fish out of water. Freddie celebrated with large swings of the arm, but with an uncharacteristic silence, grabbing Deacy and pulling him in for a loud kiss. Deacy looked stunned, despite Freddie doing that to him all the time.

"You - you sure?"

"No, actually, I'd like some time to think while I'm sitting on my flight out of here - of course I'm sure!" Roger stood up, never breaking eye contact with Brian as the ring was slipped onto his finger as it should've been earlier today. Brian embraced Roger, the familiar feeling of his friend's calloused fingertips now holding his cheeks. Roger held Brian's hands firmly in their place with his own, relaxing for the first time in three days. 

_This feels right. The rightest anything has ever felt._

And Brian couldn't have agreed more, his lips finally getting the pleasure of being on Roger's own, both of them knowing the true meaning behind it all. 

***

Back in Brian's flat, they lay on the bed together, sharing a bed at last. The room was silent, allowing them to hear the steady rumble of London at night in all its glory. 

Brian looked at Roger with pure love in his eyes, reaching a steady hand out to push the disheveled hair out of his - real - fiancé's own tired eyes. They were both fading into sleep, bodies and minds allowed to have a moment that wasn't wracked with worry or anger.

Roger grunted slightly, pushing his body closer into Brian's, prompting Brian to wrap his arms around his torso. It was almost too much for Brian, too good to be true, but the dull red marks on his arms where he'd obsessively pinched himself since leaving the studio assured him that this wasn't a dream.

"Brian?"

"Yes, love?" 

"What did you tell your mum, when she asked when it was you knew you loved me?"

"Well, do you remember the show at Imperial College?" 

"July 18th, 1970?" 

"That would be the one."

"And what was it about me that made it click?"

Brian pretended to consider for a moment, although he thought about this daily. 

"It was everything, Rog." 

 


End file.
